<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Spiritual Affinity by Heatherbel</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274219">Spiritual Affinity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heatherbel/pseuds/Heatherbel'>Heatherbel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prospect (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Historical, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, Ezra is everything, Ezra is his own warning, F/M, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Oral Sex, Prospect 2018 AU, Sex, Supernatural Elements, fic rating guaranteed to change, mild sexual references, there will be explicit content in later chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:16:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heatherbel/pseuds/Heatherbel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With no supernatural power other than his charm, grifter Ezra reads the palms of the gullible with lucrative results. He knows every trick in the book, or so he thinks, until he meets a woman pulling the same con. Unable to discern her methods, he’s determined to unravel the mystery even if it kills him…</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Never-ending thanks to both yespolkadotkitty and jura-moon for their patient beta skills and all their help and encouragement, I genuinely wouldn’t have written this fic without them.</p><p>And a big thank you to zombieaurora for letting me play with her idea.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <b>Harvard University. 1910. </b>
</p><p>She shook the young man's hand in greeting before taking a seat in the waiting leather chair.</p><p>"Ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you."</p><p>"And you, my dear, it's not often that I'm asked to an interview by the distinguished academics of  your university."</p><p>"Well I don't know about distinguished, I'm just a doctoral student," the mousy haired young man flushed slightly, adjusting his horn rimmed glasses, "but I'm truly grateful to you for coming. Can I get you a glass of water before we start?"</p><p>"I'm quite fine," she assured him.</p><p>He shuffled his papers, "lovely, is it acceptable if I begin with my questions?"</p><p>"Of course, that's what I'm here for after all." Settling back in her seat, she adjusted her voluminous skirts with the quiet air of self assurance that only comes with age.</p><p>“Your full name is Mrs Ailsa McRae, is that correct?”</p><p>"Miss McRae dear, I never married. Didn’t much believe in the institution."</p><p>"Oh, I'm sorry, I had thought… from your records,"  he trailed off, rubbing at his brow, visibly disconcerted by the error in his research. </p><p>His voice is less sure when he speaks again, "but you were at one time a clairvoyant?" </p><p>"Not at one time, no. All the time." She smiled.</p><p>"And still are?" He glanced up at her, openly curious.</p><p>"And still am." </p><p>"When did you discover your abilities? </p><p>"As a young woman of 21, just after my parents died in 1850. My brother Damon and I were left to fend for ourselves. I was very lonely, and it was then that I first heard the voices."</p><p>"Of your parents?"</p><p>"Sometimes them, sometimes others. They have to have something important to say to break through - it's only the spirits who <em> really want </em> to talk to you who can."</p><p>"Huh, I see," but from the twist of barely concealed bemusement that crossed his features she could tell that he couldn't, not really. </p><p>"So you travelled the country working as a medium, as part of the Spiritualist Movement?"</p><p>"I did,” she confirmed, “for 39 years, I travelled all over America, Europe too eventually."</p><p>"You travelled with your brother?"</p><p>"Initially. Of course, things didn't get really interesting until I met Ezra…"</p><p> </p><p>*************************************************</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Philadelphia. 1860.</b>
</p><p>She sat alone at the centre of a crowded room. Exhausted from her work and wary, she watched as the people around her formed knots and whorls, gathering and dissipating like waves drawn by the tide. </p><p>She knew she should be moving on but couldn't bring herself to go, her entire universe narrowed down to a singular focus.</p><p>If they were the sea then he was the moon; beautiful, distant, ultimately unknowable. In every way that she repelled people, he seemed to draw them in. </p><p>So magnetic was his personality, that she wondered if he was practiced in the art of mesmerism. His hair shone in the lamplight, a streak of it almost white, stark against his brown waves. </p><p>Tonight's séance had been a great success. It would be the talk of Philadelphia high society for weeks to come, she was sure. But while she would be the talk, <em> he </em>would be the whispers. She watched as he made a great show of checking on a lady who had swooned - the slightest brush with the supernatural having clearly proved too much for her delicate sensibilities. </p><p>As he turned his eyes caught her curious gaze and suddenly he was stalking towards her. Ailsa panicked, ducking her head as she pretended to be engrossed in tidying away the tools of her trade.</p><p>He came to a halt tantalisingly close, and all six of her senses sparked at his proximity. </p><p>"Ma'am, it's quite the pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name's Ezra."</p><p>His voice was deep, a honeyed rasp with a southern twang, backed up with a most charming one dimpled grin. </p><p>Looking up she took his proffered hand and paused, tilting her head quizzically before her lips eased into a small smile. </p><p>"I feel like I already know you," she said.</p><p> </p><p>*************************************************</p><p> </p><p>"I feel like I already know you," she said.</p><p>For what was quite possibly the first time in his entire life, Ezra found himself at a loss for words. </p><p>Despite his chosen profession, Ezra didn't see himself as the sort prone to flights of fancy. In fact, he inwardly lauded himself as a man of the utmost practicality. But... there was something about her, about the way her eyes seemed to look <em> through </em> him. He didn't know if he loved it or hated it but he knew he felt exposed, buzzing like a raw nerve. A small shudder ran up his spine, and he released her hand as quickly as it was polite to do so. </p><p>He immediately missed the feel of her delicate fingers in his own. </p><p>Taking a breath, he rallied, "I think not, m'dear, for I'm sure I would remember making the acquaintance of a lady so lovely."</p><p>"Sorry, did you say your name was Ezra?" Something hardened behind her eyes as she spoke his name, and he didn't like it one bit.</p><p>"Why yes, I-"</p><p>"I think you'll find your reputation precedes you, good sir. The Fox sisters have told me <em> plenty </em> about you."</p><p>Ezra swore inwardly. He had rarely met a lady he couldn't schmooze with his Southern charm, but he could clearly tell when he'd run up against a wall. He wondered just what the Fox sisters had said about him - God knew there was <em> plenty </em> to say.</p><p>Gathering her things she stood, and nodding primly at him, walked off without another word.</p><p>Ezra gazed after her retreating form, both frustrated and deeply intrigued. This woman was a mystery he was determined to unravel. </p><p> </p><p>*************************************************</p><p> </p><p>As soon as she was out of his sight, she ducked into a side room to try and gather herself. She was completely taken aback by him, by <em> Ezra, </em> in every way. She whispered his name aloud, enjoying the sound, testing the taste of it on her tongue, feeling her cheeks flush at the very thought of him. </p><p>People didn't approach her, at least not willingly. Her Scots granny had called it the 'uncanny' in her, said people knew without knowing why that she wasn't normal; that Fae ran in her blood. Yet here he was having positively sauntered up to her, seemingly without a care in the world. </p><p>Oh yes, she knew all about his ‘<em> reputation </em>’.  A fellow 'clairvoyant' in name only, Ezra had not a whit of psychic ability. Some of the stories she'd heard about him beggared belief. He used every trick in the trade, and several entirely of his own devising, to con wealthy, unsuspecting rubes out of their money. </p><p>Astonishingly, she’d heard Ezra's 'spirit guides' were all for free love, and were often inclined to suggest that the most attractive women he read palms for should end up in his bed. Some of his customers didn't even make it that far, coming out from private readings with corsets ill laced and skirts askew; flushed and giggling. </p><p>Yes she knew exactly where Ezra's spirit guide was located, and it was somewhere directly south of his belt buckle. </p><p>The entire situation infuriated her. Not only was the impropriety scandalous enough, but he was risking the reputation of all Spiritualists; the credibility of their entire profession. The man was a fraud and a scoundrel to boot. As if the inhabitants of the astral planes had nothing more important to do than warm his sheets. That several of the women were married was yet more grist for the mill. </p><p>Grudgingly she had to admit she had thought him exceedingly attractive, convincing herself that was before she'd realised who he was. </p><p>She was haunted by a feeling of Deja-vu, a certainty that she’d met the man before, though she knew it was impossible, yet something within her undeniably recognised him. That he was making her feel such confusing and conflicting emotions only fuelled her anger further. </p><p>How <em> dare </em> he rile her up like this? That she was riling <em> herself </em> up about <em> him </em> was beside the point. It was still his fault. </p><p>To make things worse, she could feel the spirits clamouring to speak to her, shouting over each other inside her head. It seemed she wasn't the only one riled by their meeting. She couldn't deal with them just now, so she tamped them down, deep inside, closing a mental door and shutting them out as best she could.</p><p>She stormed out to look for her brother, now desperate to leave, and was nearly sent flying. Large hands grabbed her before she could fall, and she realised to her horror that she was now entirely pressed against Ezra. Her thoughts stuttered. </p><p>Warm. His hand was warm on her forearm, the other curled protectively around her waist. He smelled of sandalwood and cedar and she felt a sudden maddening compulsion to press her face against his neck and breathe him in. His eyes were wide with surprise, shining dark cocoa in the lamplight. A loud laugh from the room next door startled her to her senses, and wrenching out of his grasp, she fled. </p><p>Once again, with his heart pounding, Ezra watched her go.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a cold autumn evening, and a wispy haze curled and twisted in the night air, illuminated by the orange glow of the gas street lamps. Inside the guesthouse Ailsa's room was crowded, although she was the only one who noticed.    </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brother paced the room, furious. Incensed that she’d left without him, and flecks of spittle flew from his mouth as he extolled on the impropriety of a woman travelling alone after dark. Impropriety, ha! She thought; as if Damon knew or cared for what was proper. He was just angry that she’d taken the carriage their host had provided back to their lodgings, leaving him to spend </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> earnings on a hansom cab, instead of the drink or drugs he’d have preferred.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa apologised meekly as she packed her case, but inwardly she seethed with her own anger. She was careful not to let it show, she knew from bitter experience that Damon was not a man to be trifled with, especially when under the influence. He was intoxicated more and more of the time these days and she’d felt the back of his hand more than once. She wanted to hate him, she really did, but he was all she had left in the world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, him and the other occupants of the room.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced up and cringed as he walked clean through old Mrs Smyth, although Mrs Smyth herself seemed completely unperturbed.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Damon thought the room rather draughty as he raged at his little sister, it never occurred to him that this was often the case when he was in her presence. That the chill followed her like a shadow even on summer days. Although little did occur to him these days, as addled as he was.    </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He'd spent the evening drinking in the servant's quarters while she worked, and was now three sheets to the wind; the drink really enhanced his natural charm, Ailsa thought wryly. She contemplated giving him the small bottle of laudanum she kept in her case for emergencies, just so he'd pass out and give her some peace. As if it wasn't noisy enough in her room already. The spirits had refused to leave her alone since her run-in with Ezra earlier in the evening, and the room was now packed full of them, visible to only her.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were as strong tonight as she was weak, and her meeting with the grifter had undoubtedly stirred them up.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>handsome,” a girl in her late teens, with a most unfortunate neck wound, giggled from in front of the fireplace.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He calls to you, you know it,” a disembodied voice cooed from behind a large plant pot. Ailsa decided not to look for the source.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed and continued with the chore of folding her clothes, trying to ignore the overlapping voices of the living and the deceased haranguing her from all sides.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chorus of spirits continued with their unceasing commentary on her life, and if the small fact that they were dead didn’t stop them, she didn’t know if anything would.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a liar and a thief. Never been any good, never will be any good, you'd best keep away from him,” the rotund shade of Mr Pettigrew bellowed from the sofa.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I think he’s trouble, but worth it,” said old Mrs Smyth with a grin.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa’s ire for the man with the streak in his hair only grew with each remark. She didn’t want to think of him, of his dark eyes, of how he'd made her feel.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even when she closed her eyes, she could see him, and the voices swirled round inside her head, like a maelstrom, overwhelming her. “Shut up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up</span>
  </em>
  <span>, SHUT UP.”   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you just say to me?”   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a gasp Ailsa spun to face her brother, but he was already on her, breath hot on her face, and she recoiled from the cloying, bitter stench of alcohol. He grabbed for her wrist, catching it and squeezing until she felt the bones grind, her sinews twisting in protest. Yet she stood firm, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her scared, of knowing how bad the pain that seared up her arm from his grasp truly was.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Nothing Damon, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>," the last word came out a squeak as he torqued her wrist further.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I was talking to the spirits, just the spirits, you know how they are?" She spoke low and soft, trying to soothe, much the same way she would to calm a startled horse; although the average horse was smarter, she thought derisively. He stared at her, eyes boring into her own, as if trying to decide if she was making fun of him. She knew he didn't believe in her abilities, but he was plenty happy to make use of them nonetheless.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually he came to a decision, easing his grip on her arm, punctuating his step away with a harsh push to her sternum that sent her sprawling to the floor.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Pick yourself up," he spat, "we leave at first light," and with a slam of the door he was gone.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa sat for a moment in a flounce of skirts and crinoline, trying to gather herself, refusing to cry, though her wrist throbbed and her backside stung sharply from the fall.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are you alright, dear?" A young man with a rather disturbing imprint of a carriage wheel across his chest asked from near the window.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That brother of yours is nothing but a bastard, excusing my language," Mr Pettigrew opined.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He's a no-good bully, you shouldn't let him treat you so," the teenager at the fireplace piped up.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If you want us to startle him for you, maybe at the top of a tall flight of stairs, you know you only need to say the word," said Mrs Smyth. "One quick fright is all it would take and you can be free of him." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa smiled; the old woman might have been dead 200 years but she was still delightfully feisty.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed as she got to her knees and then groaned as she stood back up, new aches appearing with each movement. She needed to rest.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I appreciate the offer, I really do," she addressed the waiting crowd of eager spectral faces, "but that won't be necessary." The ghosts looked at her disbelievingly. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to get undressed and ready myself for bed."    </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't let us stop you," said the young man, an eager, leering smile across his face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"In private!" She shot him a warning glare.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, the gathered spirits faded - shooed on by Mrs Smyth - with nary a murmur, and Ailsa finally found some peace.   </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>**************************  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hotel wasn't fancy, its bar even less so, but they rarely were in towns as podunk as this one, and it suited him well enough. The whiskey went down smooth, and there were townsfolk aplenty willing to throw their hopes and dreams into palm reading and cards. Where hopes and dreams went, cold hard cash always followed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With an insouciant grin, Ezra tilted back in his chair and threw his cards on the table with a flourish, “royal flush gentlemen.” His companions grumbled as he leaned over and swept the pot into his pile.    </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew he should call it quits now and leave while he was ahead, that would be the smart thing, the savvy thing to do after all; but Ezra had never been very good at that, reticence not in his nature. He had always preferred to take things to the edge, often several steps too far, and let the chips fall where they may.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was good with his hands, always had been, his clever fingers able to false shuffle and bottom deal at will, his silver tongue providing all the cover necessary to draw the eye elsewhere, allowing his various misdeeds to go unnoticed. He didn't think of it as stealing so much as rightful redistribution of wealth. It was a set of skills and a mind-set that served him well in his current profession.    </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ezra began to riffle the deck again but his fingers stumbled as he caught a glimpse of who had just walked in the hotel doors.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What were the chances? He thought, and then smiled at the opportunity the fates had dropped directly into his lap. He hadn't always had the best luck in life, but lately things were really looking up.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Excuse me gentlemen, I find I must take my leave. I trust you'll all forgive my hasty departure." Before they could protest, he swallowed the last of his whiskey, lifted his winnings and stood, their mumbled complaints fading behind him as he strode to the door, towards her.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused for a moment to take her in, thinking she was even prettier than he remembered, her features soft in the late morning light as she spoke with the bellboy, directing him to her cases.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was something about her, he just couldn't put a finger on it. He felt strangely shy, an emotion unfamiliar to his usually gregarious nature. Just as he willed himself to approach, he saw her freeze for a moment, just as a man stepped in and took her arm.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ezra recognised him, he was sure they'd drank together before at some convention or other. Damon, he was sure that was the name, her brother and manager. Interesting. He took a step back and carefully eased away, a new plan forming in his mind.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>********************************** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had felt him before she'd seen him, only catching the merest glimpse of the back of his head as he walked away, but it was Ezra, she was certain of it. Her sixth sense had set her nerves alight the moment he came near; the feeling unmistakable. The spirits had been quick to confirm it, nearly falling over themselves to tell her (at least as much as it was possible for an incorporeal being to fall). The knowledge that he was here, in this town, in this very building made her feel slightly nauseous. She’d never met the man in her life before last week and now they were in the same place at the same time yet again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t like it. Not one little bit.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had contemplated telling Damon that she wouldn’t stay, insisting on moving on to the next town right away, but she knew he wouldn’t hear of it. There was good money to be made in towns like these, and her séance wasn’t planned until the following evening.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shushing the curious spirits that were pestering her yet again, she made ready to go downstairs for dinner.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa's heart stopped when she made her way into the dining room and found a gathering of locals, Ezra at its centre. Her horror deepened when she realised that her brother was seated at his side.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damon had only been out of her sight for a matter of hours while she’d rested and freshened up after their journey, and yet to look at him, she’d have thought it had been days. From the way he was holding himself, half slumped in his seat, she could tell that he’d taken the time to familiarise himself with the full array of liquor on offer in this fine establishment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa hated crowds, an unfortunate issue when her trade all but relied on them. She fought the desire to run away and tried to exude calm and poise as she made her way to the table. Her heart pounded; ready to beat clear out of her chest. Deep down she was painfully shy, but held herself with the grace and assurance of someone whose life couldn't afford such a luxury. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All her concern was for naught, it appeared no one had even noticed her arrival, everyone in attendance focused entirely on Ezra and whatever tall tale he was spinning.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at ease there, in amongst so many strangers. He cut an imposing figure, all dark, wild hair and even darker eyes. His clothing was exceedingly fine, she thought, giving him an air of wealth and success; the starched white collar of his linen shirt and the rich red brocade of his waistcoat a delightful contrast to the pale golden hue of his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dress she wore was her finest, yet she felt wan and inconsequential in such close proximity to his enigmatic glow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as Ezra glimpsed her through the crowd he stopped mid-sentence and stood. "Folks, if you'll excuse me," he addressed the gathering, "please be so kind as to let the good lady through." And just like Moses and the red sea, the crowd parted before him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His welcoming smile was bewitching, and Ailsa could easily see how so many had fallen under his spell.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ma’am, it is an honor to meet you again. I do hope that this time you'll give me a chance to untarnish my reputation," his voice was a warm rasp, and the way he looked at her made her feel like there was no one else in the room. Taking her hand he raised it to his mouth with a soft brush of his lips. His dark eyes never left her own and she was startled at the thought, unbidden and unwanted, of how good those lips would feel were they pressed elsewhere. Her stomach flipped, and she forced herself to focus.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ezra, what a… surprise to find you here." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well y'know my sort, we're much like bad pennies," he said with a wry smile, "always inclined to turn up when you least expect." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He released her hand and before she had a chance to respond, turned to address the small crowd, still patiently hanging on his every word, "ladies and gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I promise to finish my story for any who care to come for a private reading-" a groan of discontent went up from the group "-but right now it is imperative that I give my enchanting dining companions my full attention."  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sister, come, sit…" Damon slurred. "This is Ezra." Ailsa shook her head in exasperation, she could think of many names for her brother right now, but enchanting </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn't one of them. The fool was so out of it that he'd clearly missed every word spoken so far.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This is exciting, please, sit, dine with us," Ezra exclaimed. He waved over a member of staff to take her order. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was most unamused to note that their living audience had now been replaced by a crowd of eager ghosts, a mix of local spirits and her familiars. As Ailsa took her seat, old Mrs Smyth gave her a wink and a knowing look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa was tempted to shoo the spectral onlookers away, but she didn't want to look like a mad woman in front of so many strangers - many of whom she might be relying on for custom. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> she didn’t care what Ezra might think of her, and her brother was currently entirely too close to comatose to have an opinion on </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ezra leant forward conspiratorially. "Now Miss McRae, I am most intrigued to hear more about your methods of conversing with the other side. It looks so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's because it is," she replied sharply. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she sighed in realisation; of course, the man was a charlatan, it made sense that he would believe that she was faking too. She didn't deign to answer him further, instead choosing to change the subject entirely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So tell me, Ezra, what was the story they were so taken by?" She nodded towards the local townsfolk who had returned to eating and drinking at their own tables. Only a few were still noticeably eavesdropping on their conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why I was regaling them with the tale of how I came upon this-” he dragged his fingers through his tousled locks and lightly tugged at the shock of white at his hairline "-my ghost streak," he smiled.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ghost streak?” She raised an eyebrow in askance. The man was chock full of shit, but he intrigued her enough to want to know more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghostly cohort surrounding them, unseen by any but her, leaned forward eagerly to hear his story. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why yes, the day I gained my powers -" Ailsa snorted at this, and he spared her a baleful glance before continuing, "I was barely eighteen and ambling on the outskirts of town at dusk when I happened upon my first ghost. The night went quiet, all the mockingbirds stopped chirpin' and you don't realise quite how loud the world really is until it's not. A smell hit my nose, like nothin' I ever smelled before or since, a stench, like old mothballs and corruption. There was a strange, stale stillness in the air, and it felt like the world holding its breath before a storm. I stopped just a second to look around. That there was my mistake." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked unsettled as he spoke and Ailsa had a sudden desire to place her hand over his own in comfort. She resisted the urge. "Then it was upon me - a horrifying ghoul, all blackened, coriaceous decay. It grabbed ahold of me and clamped its jaws upon my arm. We had ourselves an </span>
  <em>
    <span>almighty </span>
  </em>
  <span>struggle, but I managed to break free. Now, I'm not ashamed to admit to you, spirit girl, that my instincts of self preservation are finely honed," he smiled. "I fled homeward and salted the hearth and threshold to keep it at bay. I slept not a wink that night, and could hear the damned thing circling 'til dawn broke. I moved on the next day and have never stopped movin' since.  When I next looked in a mirror this streak of hair had turned white, I can only assume, from the shock."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa was startled. His story was true; he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen something. She hadn't had any run-ins herself, her spirit guides usually steered her well clear, but she'd been close enough to see (and smell) one once, and the description was unmistakable. A wraith, Ezra had met a wraith and somehow lived to tell the tale. He must have been born under a lucky star. She looked at him anew, fascinated by the knowledge that he really had been touched by the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It was a wrai-" before she could say a word more she was interrupted by Damon toppling sideways off his seat, only to be caught by Ezra just before he hit the floor. He hefted her brother back into his chair, and made a show of straightening Damon's bow tie before he sat back. Her brother was a wreck, yet Ezra seemed sober as a judge. Ailsa's eyes narrowed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I suppose,” she accused,  “you had no hand in the state my dear brother finds himself in?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ezra clutched at his chest in a dramatic fashion. "Why, sweet spirit girl, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>wound</span>
  </em>
  <span> me - I think you know full well that your brother needed no assistance. He was already well into his third or fourth drink before he joined me at the card table. In fact, it was I that suggested we get something to eat in an effort to sober him up a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damon had been playing cards? That was a worry - her brother fancied himself a rake, but there was no true cunning in him and he had no skill for games. She looked over her dining companion with an appraising eye as the waitstaff placed their food in front of them. There was definitely plenty of cunning in Ezra; Ailsa had barely spoken with him for half an hour and already she could tell the man was sly and quick as any fox.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ezra dug into his food with gusto, but not without manners - however this fox had been raised, he'd learned enough to smooth his whiskers before entering polite company. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa tried and failed to rouse her brother enough to get him to eat and eventually gave up. She only managed a few bites of her own meal, a nagging worry gnawing at her stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She began to grill Ezra once more. "My brother hardly plays at cards Mr-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, I fully realise that about Damon here,” Ezra cut her off as he jovially slapped her brother's sagging shoulder. His manner was relaxed, but his smile trod a tightrope between menace and charm. “You see my dear, your brother lost a great amount of money to me today, such a large sum, that he tells me it would leave the two of you quite destitute were I to take it. Now, this would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>most </span>
  </em>
  <span>unsatisfactory for all concerned." He smiled again, and Ailsa restrained a sudden urge to slap him. "I am neither inclined to cruelty nor immune to intrigue, so I made him a counter-offer."  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And that would be?" She asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It seems, despite all signs to the contrary, your brother is a very lucky man. Since he is unable to pay financially, Damon has instead agreed to compensate me with generosity in equal measure." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And what does that mean?" Ailsa demanded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damon sat bolt upright, and they both started, "we're business partners now, gonna be rich," he mumbled cheerily before slumping over like a puppet with its strings cut. His chin hit the table with a sickening thud and for a moment Ailsa worried he might be dead until he let out a resounding snore.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ailsa gaped, looking from Ezra to her brother's prone form and back again, her mouth hanging open and aghast as her world transformed around her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Chin up, spirit girl," Ezra grinned, eyes shining with glee, "I do believe this is going to be the beginning of a most lucrative relationship."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>l</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>